A View to a Rebirth
by ss9
Summary: Could May Day have survived the explosion? Could Zorin have survived the fall? Will Bond see some old foes coming or will he burn in the ashes of their rebirth?
1. Chapter 1

Hospital, the feel of cheap coarse sheets against her bruised burnt skin and the lingering scent of antiseptic in the air.

Stretching and feeling her movements restricted, her right arm was cast in plaster and her lower leg was suspended from the ceiling on some sort of pulley. Forcing her eyes open May Day glared around the room unable for a moment to remember what calamity had brought her here, then like a freight train it hit her.

Mainstrike...the bomb...the feel of the wind at her face as she laughed in the face of death...and Max.

Max had betrayed her, abandoned her for dead in that god forsaken mine rather than risk any chance of his plan failing.

Gasping for breath as the pain crushed her chest May Day wanted something to hit, she wanted someone to hit until they felt as hurt as she did right now. How could anyone survive such agony and carry on living, she had loved him had tarnished her soul for him and this was how he had repaid her. This pain was why she held onto the brake lever, why she hadn't jumped when Bond had urged her to, why she had laughed in the face of certain death; death was her friend it would take the pain away.

Yet somehow she had been cheated from that relief and lay here trapped in her broken body unable to do anything but dwell on her heartache. It seemed that even death wasn't a friend after all. Yet even in her anguish certain questions plagued her thoughts, where was Max, he had been safe on his airship when she had last seen him so surely he would have fled to South America or one of their many safe havens by now?

Or had Bond gotten to him, had he been able to fulfil her last request, 'Get Zorin for me'.

Perhaps it was testament of the strength of her love for him or maybe she had picked up some brain injury along with her broken bones but the deepest part of her wanted him safe; alive and sulking, cursing his failed plans and stuck living away from the high life and intrigue that had thrilled them both.

Yes that would be a more fitting punishment but not dead...He couldn't be dead. Just the thought of that made the pain double, she could almost cope with the idea he had been using her, that despite all the little things that implied he had, that he had never truly loved her. Yet the idea of being alive in a world where he was not chilled her to the core.

The sudden sound of the door opening jarred her from such melancholy musings and the harsh glare she sent the nurse had the woman squealing in terror as she vanished as quickly as she came.

A moment later the door reopened and a Doctor entered her room swallowing nervously as he approached the bed.

"It is wonderful to see you awake Miss...Umm I'm afraid we don't have a name."

For a moment May Day considered giving a fake name, surely the moment she admitted who she was the police would arrive and she would be carted off to jail but since she had little intention of living much longer what difference did it make if she spent the remainder of her life in custody?

"May Day." She muttered softly. "I'm insured though Mc'Kinsleys policy number 0987452113." She added by rote. "How long have I been here?"

"A week." The Doctor replied noting down the information she had supplied. "You were in a bad way when you arrived, I understand from the news there was a mine collapse up that way no known survivors."

"A mine collapse...Yes." Mayday replied keeping the surprise from her voice, clearly the powers that be felt the public would be better served if the truth was twisted; after all how many scientists would sleep soundly in their Silicon Valley beds if they realised how close they had come to disaster?

"Well it wasn't until the fire department had been called to secure the site that anyone found you, they thought you were gone at first but when the ambulances came to take the bodies away the paramedics realised you were still breathing. You were a lucky one..."

"Lucky!" Mayday hissed her dark eyes narrowing in disgust at his choice of words.

Panicking under her glare the young doctor shuffled his papers awkwardly before babbling to cover his discomfort. "I wouldn't be surprised if the 25th goes down as one of the unluckiest days in San Francisco's history...First the mining collapse, over a hundred lives lost, then that Blimp accident..."

"Blimp?" Mayday interjected imperiously. "What accident?"

"Oh of course...An airship collided with the Golden Gate Bridge."

"And the survivors?" Mayday asked her heart in her throat.

"Only two, an English man, can't think of his name, and a pretty blonde... Stacy Sutton. They managed to clamber on to the bridge before the engine overloaded."

The Doctor babbled on unaware that Mayday's world was crashing down around her. "Of course the blimp colliding with the bridge was such a distraction there was a twenty car pileup on the bridge the poor emergency services had a right nightmare of it. That's why you're here at the Good Samaritan in San Jose and not in the General or Saint Francis in Frisco."

"I see."

"As for your condition. You're in surprisingly good shape considering that a week ago you almost passed for a corpse. We had to operate on your leg; the bone had been shattered so we had to implant a metal rod for support. Your arm was a simple break and will mend with time and the rest is some superficial burns and bruising which look worse than they are. All in all you are a very lucky woman."

"Lucky." Mayday muttered bitterly.

"Although there was one other thing." And here the Doctor paused awkwardly rubbing the back of his head before continuing. "We had to perform the standard battery of blood tests since we did not have any medical records and as well as the rather high dose of growth hormone or anabolic steroids we found in your system we found something else...Were you aware you are pregnant?"

"Pregnant?" Mayday gasped unable to think beyond that thought.

"About five weeks." The Doctor confirmed glancing at his chart. "I take it this wasn't a planned pregnancy?"

"No." Mayday confirmed certainly not on her part but something else struck her...

A memory of Dr. Carl Mortner, Max's oldest confident and steroid specialist, the man who had developed and monitored her drug treatment, eyeing her speculatively as he did the brood mares he chose so diligently for the stables. She had trusted him implicitly, as had Max she recalled, for her medication including her contraception. It wouldn't have taken much to substitute her normal pills for placebo's and then allow nature and Max's libido to do the rest.

Max wouldn't have known...he couldn't have otherwise he would never have encouraged her to bed Bond in a bid to keep him out of the way. Perhaps if he had known he wouldn't have flooded the mine whilst she was trapped inside. It was a slim hope and perhaps a foolish one, considering the fact she would never know the truth, but she couldn't imagine Max would murder his own child, not knowingly at any rate.

"Miss Day?"

"What?" May Day snapped her attention now back in the present and fixed upon the trembling young doctor.

"I was just wondering if there was anyone you wished us to call?"

"No." May Day replied sharply her quick mind already running over her options, with Max dead there would be confusion she had to act before MI5, the CIA or worse the KGB got their sticky little paws into his fortune, and the empire that by rights belonged to the precious little bundle of cells multiplying inside her. "Bring me a phone I will contact them myself!"

It was time for her to disappear, she had more than herself and her pain now, and eventually the name Zorin would rise again from the ashes, a glorious rebirth.

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_Just a strange little thought that occurred to me whilst watching 'A View to a Kill' the other day since both May Day and Max Zorin died in ways that left no body, what if the impossible occurred and they actually survived? Review and let me know if I should continue... _

_I have a few ideas which might be interesting. _


	2. Chapter 2

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Pain sharper than he could remember tore into him with every breath. He didn't need any fool doctor to tell him he had broken ribs, multiple and on both sides, as every breath no matter how small felt as though he was being ripped in half. For a moment he felt the blackness surge up again and he ached to return to its welcome embrace where the pain faded away.

"Awake are you?"

Grunting as the voice drove the darkness away he forced his eyes open, squinting in even the dim light to make out the speaker.

"Here I thought you were dead, shows what I know." The speaker had a thick accent, dark heavy features, possibly of Italian extraction. He was slumped in the far corner holding his right arm close to his body as if it were broken; a trickle of dried blood on his temple.

"Who..." He gasped but his voice cracked over the word, his throat was so dry.

"Sorry I haven't got any water." His companion answered before shuffling across the room on his backside wincing when his movement jarred his arm.

"The name is Luigi...I found you floating down in the bay, thought you were a bit of flotsam at first until I got close enough to drag you aboard. I would have taken you to a hospital but I'm afraid a bit of unfinished business found us first." His companion broke off looking decidedly edgy for a moment.

"That's my fault. Borrowed money off the wrong people then couldn't afford to pay it back. I only did it to help my sister's husband out of a hole, dumb jerk was supposed to pay me back. Thought if I took off in my boat until it blew over." Luigi added shrugging his shoulders before cursing his stupidity as it jarred his broken arm. "I can only apologise dragging you into this."

Dragging him into what exactly? Now that he had his eyes open he was able to make out his surroundings, dirty oily walls, metal casings and a floor that seemed to be vibrating. Moving they were moving and if he concentrated he could hear the hum of an engine, the back of a van perhaps.

"Where?" He managed to croak but his companion seemed to grasp his question.

"Las Vegas probably, that's where I'm from and where the people I owe live, since I'm still alive and not swimming with the fishes it probably means someone wants to talk first."

Grunting again at the foolish optimism in Luigi's voice he rested his pounding head against the side of the van allowing the hum of the engine to lull him back into unconsciousness.

He didn't know if it was hours or days later but the sudden blast of daylight and harsh voices jarred him awake once more. Rough hands grabbed him, tormenting his injuries as he was dragged out of the van into an alley then into the back of a tall building, along dull grey corridors, into a service elevator and then up countless floors. Risking a glance across the Luigi he could see the fear in the older man's eyes, and the telltale beads of sweat that were gathering on his forehead and top lip.

The elevator came to an abrupt stop with a shrill ping, the doors opening onto a lobby with a single door. Pushing the captives ahead of them the door ahead miraculously opened and they were ushered not too gently inside. By contrast with the utilitarian gray that had dominated the rest of the building the suite could have been called sumptuous, decorated in rich red tones, plush leather couches and the latest electronic gadgetry but it still felt cheap, too brash to be stylish.

"Ah Luigi back from your little fishing trip at last I see." The voice was confident and every head turned to its owner, a rather short rotund gentleman with intelligent dark eyes that flickered over Luigi and then him in turn. "Brought me back a souvenir boys?"

"He was on the boat with him Mr Capuzza, we thought it best he came along."

"Did he cause you some trouble boys?" Capuzza asked his darks eyes alighting on the many injuries that marred him.

"No sir?"

"Then why does he look like he just stepped into the ring with Mickey Blue Eyes and lost?"

"He was like that when we got there Mr Capuzza."

Snorting in amusement at the tough guy's innocent act he ignored the rough shove to shut up, glancing up to find Capuzza's gaze locked on his in surprise.

"What's so funny?"

"Capuzza?" He added unable to quell the insane laughter that bubbled up inside him and when the dark eyed man nodded he continued in a croaky voice. "From the latin capo, meaning Boss, not particularly original."

"Shut it Blondie." The guard gripping his arm sneered jabbing what felt like a revolver into his damaged ribs. "Seems we got ourselves a comedian Boss."

"Yeah…" Capuzza muttered before turning his attention back to a silent Luigi. "So Luigi my old friend what made you run out on your old pal Capuzza? We had an agreement my friend, I lent you 100 thou which you would repay with interest, now the first payment date has been and gone so where my friend is the fifteen grand you owe me?"

Hanging his head Luigi muttered excuses about his sister and her husband, the deal that should have provided for them all, and how her fat louse of a husband had run off with all the dosh leaving him to support a sister and pay off the debt. "I just haven't got it yet Mr Capuzza."

Nodding along sympathetically Capuzza's face was a model of understanding. "Ah Luigi I am sorry to hear about your troubles, family is important. Me and my boys are like a family so I can respect a man that goes to such lengths for one of his own but there is still the matter of the debt that is owing…I can't just write it off and if I give you more time then all those other people that owe me will be thinking I am going soft….Of course you could always do me a favour then I might be able to give you a small extension."

"What sort of favour?" Luigi asked and clearly that was what Capuzza had been waiting for as he nodded to another heavy thug who disappeared out of the door only to return moments later with a bound struggling man who he dumped on the floor at Luigi's feet.

He was a thin wiry soft of man, who dressed smartly but cheaply, with splashed out on expensive cufflinks but wore poor quality shirts. He was the type who still vainly clung to an image of youthfulness refusing to acknowledge his receding hairline, he simply grew it longer and combed over the bald patches. He stank of fear, piss and cheap aftershave.

"I have here another man who tried to cheat me. Cept he took more than a measly 100 grand, tried to fleece me good and proper didn't you Tony then went crawling to the cops." Capuzza muttered disgust clear in his every gesture. "I want you to do me a favour Luigi."

"What can I do?" Luigi asked his eyes wide with fear.

"I like you Luigi, I want to give you another chance so I want you to dispose of this filth for me."

"Dispose?"

"Permanently." Capuzza clarified before waving over another heavy who handed him a gun. "Here one bullet, I'd use it wisely if I were you." He added handing over the gun to Luigi who looked at it helplessly.

"Me and the boys will just go wait in the other room. And Luigi…" Capuzza paused waiting until he had Luigi's full attention. "You have five minutes, either use the gun on him or yourself if you prefer, but someone better be dead when I come back or I might just loose my temper. Oh and don't go thinking about escape I got men on every exit."

The moment the door shut and he and Luigi were alone with the victim Luigi went to pieces dropping the gun as if it had burnt him. Sinking into the sofa his head in his hands Luigi rocked backwards and forwards muttering under his breath he couldn't do it.

Grimacing as he pulled himself back his feet he staggered across the room to where Luigi sat, wincing as he bent down to retrieve the gun. He paused for a moment realising just how right the feeling of a gun in his hand felt, the first time since waking he felt whole, almost in control. Cocking back the safety he glanced between Luigi and the silent bound man, contemplating which would gift him the greater advantage, then with surprising ease he aimed and fired.

"What did you do?" Luigi exclaimed jumping to his feet as the bound man slumped backwards his eyes staring lifelessly up at the ceiling as a trickle of blood made its way down his cheek from the neatly placed bullet hole in his forehead.

"What you couldn't." He retorted throwing the gun back to a startled Luigi as the door to the suite opened and Capuzza and his men filtered back in a pleased smile on his face.

"Gentlemen I think this calls for a drink. To welcome Luigi into the family."

"But it wasn't me." Luigi blurted out and every eye turned to stare at him as he made his way over to the drinks cabernet to help himself.

Glancing at the selection he quickly dismissed the cognac as being of inferior quality the same with the bourbon, besides in his condition alcohol would only dehydrate him further. Grabbing a bottle of mineral water and a chilled glass he turned to face the silent room catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirrored wall. A face that he knew must be his and yet still seemed alien, pale skin marred by numerous purple bruises, blonde hair that fell slightly into his face and piecing blue-gray eyes.

"Who are you?" Capuzza asked at last breaking the spell that seeing his own reflection had cast.

Reaching up to stroke his own face, he watched his reflection copy his actions, rubbing his chin as a frown marred his brow as the realisation suddenly made itself know through the pounding of his headache. "I don't know."

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Well what do you think? Worth carrying on with? Press the review button and let me know.

Ta at ss9


	3. Chapter 3

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Waking in a cold sweat he kicked the covers away from his legs allowing the cool night air to raise Goosebumps on his sweat slick skin. With barely a glance at his sleeping companion he swung his legs over the side of the bed, fumbling for his clothes.

"Marco?" The sleeping woman murmured her hand coming in contact with the tense muscles of his toned back causing him to flinch at the unsolicited touch. "Where are you going?" She added dozily raising her head from the pillow to look at him. "It's three am."

"To my own bed." He retorted gruffly, shrugging off her hand as if he were brushing off an annoying insect before pulling on his silk pajama bottoms.

"You could stay here…I think Luigi has guessed already." She teased trying to catch his hand to pull him back to her, but he brushed away her attempts with a sneer.

The dream was still too real, and 'She' still dominated his thoughts.

Heading towards the door he quickly dodged the pillow thrown at him, his apathy quickly turning to annoyance when a shoe followed narrowly missing his head.

"You leave now and don't you dare think about coming back!"

Turning around he glared at her, taking in her sleep rumpled dark hair, the smeared mascara round her dark eyes and the thin sheet that did little to hide her curvaceous figure. Many men would have called Maria a beauty but for him she was merely a convenience, a perk of sharing the house with her brother.

"Fine by me." He muttered disappearing through the door and shutting it behind him, a smile tugging at his lips as he heard the other shoe collide with the closed door at his back.

Walking into the great room he quickly found the drinks cabernet and the rather fine cognac he had treated himself to after the last payoff. Pouring a large measure he walked to stare out of the window, the uninterrupted desert vista always soothed his disquieted mind and it was worth the extra few thousand the house had cost. More nights than not he found himself standing here unable to sleep because of the strange and yet achingly familiar images that plagued his mind when he slept.

The worst or the best depending on your perspective were the nights he dreamt about 'Her'. Then there was little chance of returning to sleep, and if he stayed in his bed he would be tortured by fragmented images, long smooth toned legs, coco skin so soft and yet firm beneath his fingers and a back that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. He could never remember seeing her face nor could he recall a name, so she remained 'Her'.

He was slowly beginning to accept his lack of memory. Two months ago mere days after his 'accident' when the dreams had first started he had thought it would only be days until he regained his full memory, but the dreams came and went and his memory remained lost. Through his new contacts he had perused the police's missing person file; he wasn't on it, clearly no one cared he had vanished and a warning voice he had learned to listen to warned him against going to the authorities himself.

He had forged himself a new life with Luigi's help, he had been taken into their family like a long lost cousin, they had named him Marco after Mars the god of war and he found it oddly appropriate. Employment was easily found when Mr Capuzza was your friend and he had plenty of opportunities to exercise his particular skills, and quickly became a favourite of the old man thanks to his creativity and discretion.

Of course his meteoric rise had also earned his fair share of enemies; he was well aware of this and simply shrugged off the childish taunts and the nickname some joker had saddled him with 'Albini'; the 'albino Italian' they sniggered.

The tinkling sound of breaking glass broke his reverie and he instinctively crouched down crawling towards the antique desk in the corner. Pulling open the top drawer he retrieved his gun, then slipping into the shadows he slid along the wall to the kitchen screwing on his silencer.

The light from the open refrigerator cast a dull illumination over the kitchen and the tall broad man who was noisily rummaging around in the icebox as if he owned the place. Glancing over at the back door it was obvious how the intruder had entered as the glass panel had been smashed and some fool, probably Maria, had left the key in the lock so he had been able to simply let himself in.

Waiting as the intruder straightened up, one of Luigi's beers in his hand, Marco stepped behind him releasing the safety on the revolver as he placed the barrel of the silencer against the back of his head.

"What the F…"

"What are you doing in my house? Is the more appropriate question don't you think?" He asked in his clipped accent his pale eyes narrowing in disgust as the intruder trembled like a little boy caught with his pants down.

"Sorry mister…I didn't realise this was your place, I thought…"

"I don't give a damn what you thought." Marco hissed pushing the barrel of the gun firmly into the glut of tanned flesh that bulged over the too tight collar causing the intruder to squeal and plead for his miserable life. Smirking as he relished the feeling of power over an inferior being Marco's finger itched on the trigger, it would be so easy, only the thought of the mess over his new kitchen gave him cause to pause.

"Marco…Luca." Luigi's voice rang out.

"Luigi my old friend…brother…Thank god you are here."

"Brother?" Marco asked glancing back over his shoulder at Luigi. "The same scum who stole from you…Oh now this will be a pleasure." He added twisting the barrel some more and relishing the shrill pleading.

"Marco no!" Luigi insisted stepping into the kitchen proper and placing a restraining hand on his shoulder, an act of familiarity he barely tolerated, but he allowed the older man to pull him away tucking the gun into the back of his pajama bottoms.

As soon as the gun was removed from his head Luca seemed to change, gone was the terrified whelp, he puffed up his chest tugging at the belt which held his trousers up over his sagging stomach. Taking a seat at the kitchen table he retrieved the beer he had dropped opening it with a contented sigh, not caring as it squirted across the table seemingly oblivious to the hole Marco was burning into his head with his eyes.

"So who's Blondie?" He asked obnoxiously eyeing the half naked Marco with disgust and perhaps more than a hint of envy as he took in the toned chiseled physique displayed above the dark silk pajamas.

"Family." Luigi retorted sharply.

"Whose, don't tell me that randy bastard of a father of yours whelped this one off on some slapper?" Luca sniggered laughing at his own joke as he took another swig of beer.

"No." Luigi retorted with more than a hint of anger. "Why are you here Luca?"

"My wife is here, she lives here ergo I live here." Luca answered smugly, his narrowing piggily.

"I am amazed you dare to show your face."

"Hey when I want your opinion Blondie I'll ask for it. This is family business, so keep your nose out." Luca retorted sharply the confident look on his face quickly slipping as Marco retrieved the gun from its hiding place and began to pass it playfully between his hands, his pale eyes locked on Luca's face as if daring him to taunt him once again.

"Luca!" Maria exclaimed bursting into the kitchen in little more than a T-shirt, her voice full of faux enthusiasm as she pushed passed a silent Luigi and a sneering Marco.

"Babes." Luca retorted ignorantly accepting his wife's hug and kisses, missing the blatant glare she sent in Marco's direction, taunting him with what he could have had which was now bestowed on her obese husband.

"I missed you…I was so lonesome without my big Luca-bear to keep me warm." Maria simpered fluttering her long dark lashes, ignoring the snort of amusement that came from Marco's direction.

"Sure you were." He muttered under his breath pushing Luigi aside as he made his way back into the great room, his interest in the family reunion quickly fading. It was just all so dull.

"Umm Marco." Luigi asked following the younger man. "Luca…I mean this is really your place. Is it alright if he stays, I know there was something going on between you and Maria.."

"It was nothing." He dismissed Luigi's concern with a wave the hand, before retrieving the glass of cognac he had left on the desk.

"So can he stay…Even after what he did he's still family?"

Surprised by such a remark he turned and stared at the apologetic Luigi who unused to such scrutiny from the pale silent man shifted uncomfortably. "He can stay, but only because you asked. " He replied eventually draining his drink in one swig.

"Keep him out of my way…Oh and try and get him to clean up after himself. I refuse to live with a pig." He added dismissing the family drama with a shake of the head, if he went back to bed now he might be able to catch another hour, before the dreams woke him once more. As long as it wasn't the one about falling, he could deal with any of the others, even 'Her' but not the sheer terror of falling through air helpless to stop yourself. Perhaps if he thought about strong arms and soft dark skin before he fell asleep his dream lover would be there to catch him, even if he fell.


	4. Chapter 4

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May Day paced like a caged panther behind the glass, back and forth across the small darkened room her thigh muscles tensing as if preparing her to fight or flee, her hands clenching unconsciously into fists as she waited and waited.

Through the two way mirror the sunlit conference room lay empty, conference papers stacked neatly, the water pitcher full of freshly iced mineral water just waiting for the delegates to arrive.

"Just send some stupid pen pusher…" May Day muttered anxious for the whole business to be over but it seemed whatever deity was answering mortal requests that day had chosen to ignore her, the conference doors had opened and some worryingly familiar faces had entered.

In front was as expected Hans Fahr, the brilliantly devious moneyman who was one of the few men Max had trusted to handle his finances, May Day knew first hand that Fahr had few if any scruples; he would have made an excellent assassin himself if he didn't consider the occupation too unprofitable for his tastes. It was to him she had turned upon fleeing the States and Fahr had proved his monetary genius ten times over since then, of course it hadn't exactly hurt that Max had laid the groundwork years in advance just in case he ever felt the need to fake his own death and retire from public life.

Max Zorin's assets were liquidated the moment the Swiss banker had gotten wind of the accident. The oh so vital company shares sold off piecemeal to brokers of dubious repute, the paperwork dates fiddled to appear prior to Max's death, the shares were then resold seemingly haphazardly to any number of companies all of which were registered in countries where the authorities are less than cooperative with international law enforcement. The companies were themselves a front, they submitted their annual accounts punctually, paid all appropriate taxes, legal and under the counter, and had done for a number of years.

On the surface there was no possible way control could revert back to Max, yet if you looked deeper you found a startling coincidence, each companies CEO commanded a large salary for a company doing relatively nothing and each owned exactly 1% of the company's stock, the remainder was owned by an inconspicuous little holding company Niroz Conglomerated, registered in Switzerland, about which the only thing known was it was one of the few accounts handled personally by…Hans Fahr.

There was no reason for anyone to go looking, but as May Day caught sight of the others entering the conference room she felt her confidence ebb, just because there wasn't a reason didn't mean no one would. After all who would have thought Max's race fixing would have led the British Secret Service to bungle their way into his carefully guarded and thought-out Main Strike operation.

Following Hans into the room was a dark haired pleasantly attractive man in a grey suit, May Day had never seen him in person before but she had been shown his photograph and she never forgot a face; American, CIA, called Felix Leiter, once an active field agent he had managed to survive in the service long enough to be 'promoted' to a desk job.

The man behind him she was unfortunately more familiar with, his rounded tanned face, balding head and jovial smile gave him the appearance of an amiable grandfather, one enjoying the later years of his life perhaps having retired to the cape with his wife, a couple of dogs who spends his days fishing. Yet May Day knew from experience the man was a shark, using his jovial exterior as a lure; many a young agent had been hooked into the service thanks to that fake grandfatherly like concern, when this man fished it wasn't for trout or salmon it was people's lives. It was testament to that ability and his canny political wrangling that General Alexis Gogol had remained head of the KGB for twice as long as any of his forbears.

The British by contrast had sent a bureaucrat, a high ranking one, Frederick Grey Minister of Defence but they had not sent him in alone and it was the last attendee that caused May Day's pulse to jump as he stepped casually into the room, bidding his greeting to the other men as he shut the door behind him, taking the last remaining seat between the Minister and the American.

He sat in thoughtful silence as Hans began to speak, intelligent blue eyes scoping the room, lingering suspiciously on the mirror and May Day had to stifle a gasp as his gaze met her own. Forcing herself to relax as she realized he could not possibly have seen her, it was a two way mirror and her room was dark, still she couldn't help but back further away out of his line of vision.

Bond. The very name stung her tongue as she formed it. Celebrated Secret Service Agent, darling of society matrons, the deadliest weapon in the British arsenal and more difficult to kill than a cockroach in a nuclear holocaust, the man had slithered out of more death traps than any other agent alive… He was also Max's murderer.

That title fit him better than 007 in May Day's opinion and if it were not for the child that caused her stomach to cramp and roll in the mornings she would have made it her life's work to see the man dead, even if it meant certain death for herself as well. Instead she had chosen to hide in the shadows, staying way below any agency radar, putting the final touches to the plan which would enable her to live free from prosecution and her child to inherit and enjoy the fruits of its father's genius.

"THIS is an OUTRAGE, we will NEVER AGREE!" General Gogal's angry voice jolted May Day out of her musings.

Drawing closer to the glass she could make out the sour expressions on each face, good it would hardly be amusing if the plan didn't make each agency distinctly uncomfortable. Hans hardly looked perturbed by the older man's outburst waiting until Gogal had finished venting before he continued in the same carefully modulated tone.

"It is of course your decision General. However I do believe if you read the remainder of the document you will decide to take the first option."

"You expect us to sign this…I exchange for what our own intelligence." Gogal spluttered. "Give up all legal action over the Zorin estate, sign non-disclosure agreements, and absolve all those involved…It is preposterous."

"Absolutely." Hans replied simply his blue eyes meeting the fuming generals coolly.

"I do believe you will do just that, firstly your claims to the late Mr Zorin's estate will not be upheld, to do that you would have to publically admit KGB involvement in his affairs and I doubt that is something you have authority to do. The non-disclosure agreements are simple standard procedure and as for the pardoning of all involved, considering you have all declared the guilty parties deceased what possible problem could that pose?"

"Why are you asking for it?" Felix asked his dark eyes narrowed with suspicion. "It makes no sense to obtain pardons for a dead man."

"Probate." Hans answered in one word. "Pardoning Mr Zorin and all associated parties will enable us to proceed with wrapping up his estate, at present it is an unsightly loose end and we wish to end the legal wrangling."

"And if we refuse?" The Minister asked and before Hans could reply Bond butted in, having quickly skimmed the document whilst the others argued he was already prepared.

"If we refuse minister, then Mr Fahr here is instructed to simply hand over whatever intelligence Zorin had gathered to our rival agency."

"What he can't…" Minister Gray blustered.

"I any case it is likely to be far more damaging to the good General here than ourselves." Bond added smiling smugly at the fuming Gogal. "Zorin was after all one of his agents."

"One with access to certain key high level members of your government." Gogal spat back at the unperturbed Bond but he didn't miss the way the Minister blanched at that thought.

"Personally." Felix cut in. "I don't see how it can hurt us to cooperate, but then again I don't imagine the CIA has much to gain from the deal, Zorin didn't have nearly the same influence in the States…"

"You might be surprised Mr Leiter, Zorin Industries and its subsidiary companies employ over two million American workers in certain key swing states. Now if the legal situation is not resolved and the USSR somehow gains control of that company through whatever puppet they put forward, do you really want them enjoying that much voting influence?" Hans pointed out.

"Not to mention the notable amount of how do you call it…'dirt'…on some of your more prominent local officials I would hate for that to fall into the hands of those who would use it to blackmail such men to treason."

Glaring in annoyance at Hans Fahr's insinuation Felix grasped the thick legal document flicking through it to the end before picking up a pen. Glancing across at Bond he paused before signing. "You are completely sure you got that Bastard James?"

"He took a short walk off of the top of the Golden Gate Bridge Felix, I doubt even Max Zorin could survive that!" Bond retorted bluntly watching as his old friend nodded putting pen to paper and handing the signed document over to Hans.

"I cannot authorize the pardons. I will have to head back to Washington."

Nodding as if Felix were merely stepping across the road to pick up a newspaper Hans waved aside his explanations. "Of course of course, if you can return to Switzerland by the end of the business week will carry out the exchange."

Glancing at his watch Felix nodded before getting to his feet. "Well that doesn't leave me much time." He paused holding his hand out for James to shake before heading towards the door.

"Well gentlemen are you also prepared to be reasonable?" Hans asked turning his attention back to the silent General.

"I would wish to see what intelligence we are talking about before I sign, I will not be duped into signing over a fortune and receiving only back door gossip." General Gogal muttered.

"But of course." Hans retorted reaching for the nearest telephone, pressing speed dial he spoke a few cryptic German phrases into the receiver and a few moments later a pretty blonde secretary popped her head around the door sealed envelope in hand. Directing her over to the general with a simple gesture she laid it down on the table in front of him before disappearing just as silently much to Bond's disappointment.

All eyes watched as Gogal unsealed the envelope withdrawing a simple printed sheet.

"It is of course only a bare summary of the information." Hans replied his blue eyes locked on the suddenly pale General who without another word seized the contract hastily scrawling his signature in all appropriate places.

"I want that information at once." Gogal growled getting to his feet.

"Of course General." Hans replied this time pressing another button on his phone and barking a different set of codes before setting the handset down. "If you would care to make your way down to your car the information will be waiting for you."

"Good."

"Oh and General." Hans paused waiting for the opportune moment to let the final axe fall. "We will of course be retaining a copy for our records, I am sure you will lose no time in changing all appropriate codes however even the KGB cannot render all that intelligence useless. I would urge you to remember that should you ever decide to renege on this little agreement."

That clearly was one step too far for the fuming General Gogal who turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him so hard it rattled the expensive art that hung on the wall.

"Minister?"

"Very well." Francis Gray retorted picking up the contract and reaching for his fountain pen. "Unless you can give me a good reason to refuse to refuse Commander Bond?"

"Nothing I can put my finger on Minister." The secret agent replied evenly meeting the Banker's eye across the table. "However I cannot help but be curious…Just what exactly do you get for going through all this trouble Mr Fahr?"

"Why nothing save the satisfaction of tying up loose ends for my company Commander…Oh that and a sizeable bonus at the resolution of the legal work." Hans replied coolly.

"And I am sure the appreciation of Mr Zorin's named beneficiaries…Who are?"

"I am sure you are aware that such information is considered confidential in Switzerland Commander Bond."

"Ahh." Bond replied simply holding the man's gaze surprised when the banker didn't flinch.

"Well let's get this over with." The minister muttered signing his name with a flourish.

"Thank you." Hans replied gathering the contract and setting it with the others. "I will call and have your documents waiting for you as you leave. I hope you have a pleasant trip." He added emotionlessly as he headed out the door nodding to the secretary on the way out.

A moment later and he was sliding into the neighboring room pausing on the threshold as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. May Day was standing still as a statue by the glass her eyes locked on the lingering British. Crossing over to her they both stood and watched in silence as the Minister and a wary looking Bond gathered their things and finally left the room.

"Well that proceeded according to plan."

"Yes." May Day muttered her eyes still fixed on the space where Bond had sat her eyes boring into the seat like laser beams. If looks could kill had never been so apt.

"Well as possibly my wealthiest and definitely my most attractive client." Hans flattered causing May Day to roll her eyes in disbelief. "What miracle do you want me to perform next?"

Staring off into space May Day allowed her hand to drift to her stomach, to prying eyes it still appeared flat as a washboard but she could feel the difference. "I want to go home."

---


End file.
